A Deadly Royal Affair
by Rubiredslippers
Summary: Anne is trying to move on with her royal life after her night with Aramis. Preparing for motherhood and fighting her attraction to the dashing musketeer. Meanwhile Aramis, a man torn between his duty to the crown and his love for the queen, is on the trail of a criminal mastermind with deadly plans for those he loves. Multiple P.O.V.'s and ships. Annamis mostly though :)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter O****ne**

**Authors note: So this is my first musketeers ****fan fiction and i have to say. I LOVE THE SHOW! This story will have multiple P.O.V.'s but it will mainly focus on Anne and Aramis' relationship. Major thanks to my friend Sophie who also loves the show and is helping as my beta.**

"We will need to get you some new gowns, Your Majesty." said Jocelyn, Queen Anne's lady-in-waiting as she struggled to tighten the back of Anne's dress.

"Yes, I suppose we will." Anne said smiling.

She rubbed her hand across her rather swollen abdomen. Even though she was only in the fourth month of her pregnancy, Anne was already showing the signs of impending motherhood evidently. Her once flat stomach was now curved and pushing against her bodice and straining her skirts.

"You are looking well this morning. No more sickness when you wake?" Her faithful lady asked.

"No, dear friend, when I wake all I feel is joy and gratitude that I have been blessed so." Anne said smiling, in the corner of her eye she saw Jocelyn's serene smile.

Unlike her first pregnancy, Anne felt only happiness, none of the fear or worry she had had before. She had beenso_ young_. Everything had been new and exciting, until she woke up covered in blood. Anne winced at the memory of her screaming and begging for God to show mercy to her baby.

But now she knew this baby was different. The child within her was strong, even now she felt the small flutters of movement as if he was showing her, he was a survivor. Anne hoped in her heart that this child was a boy, an heir for her husband.

"Shall I send for the royal seamstress?" Jocelyn inquired.

"Not today, Jocelyn, It is such a beautiful day. Why don't we just sit outside and enjoy the beautiful french summer?"

Anne had no royal duties to fulfil today, so she ordered a gazebo to be put up in the gardens for her and her ladies to relax under.

Anne, who now became exhausted very easily, sat and watched the servants scurrying back and forth making preparations for the ball being held in her honour. This is when they would announce that she was with child, Anne had insisted they wait for a month before telling anyone, so that she could be sure. Of course the Cardinal knew, Captain Treville and of course the musketeers that had been in the room at the time. The men who had protected her when she was in danger.

Athos, Porthos, D'Artagnan and Aramis.

_Aramis. _

Anne's heart flooded with warmth when she thought of him. She knew that she should feel shame after their tryst, but all she felt was…love.

Love for the wonderful, valiant, kind man that was everything her husband was not. The man who had shown her more pleasures in one night than her husband in six years. Heat flooded her face when she thought of their night together.

"Daydreaming, Majesty?" asked Jocelyn. Her chief lady-in-waiting had always been eerily perceptive. The moment Anne had returned from the nunnery Jocelyn had known something had happened, but she did not ask her anything.

"Yes I was…thinking of how wonderful the ball will be." Anne lied.

Jocelyn smiled wanly.

"Your Majesty will most certainly need a beautiful gown for the ball. You will be the centre of attention."

She was right. As tired as she was, Anne would have to endure a dress fitting with old women prodding and poking her with pins.

"I don't suppose we could call upon a new seamstress? I would like something different." She mused.

"I could go to the hall and see if the steward has any other seamstresses available?" Jocelyn suggested.

"That would be wonderful, if you do not mind?" She must not have minded because Jocelyn immediately rose from her seat put down the book she had been reading and excused herself from her current company, striding across the gardens.

Her other ladies watched Jocelyn leave and then began to whisper things to each other. They did not seem to like her much. Anne found that upsetting, Jocelyn had come with her from Austria when she was betrothed to Louis. They had grown up together and had always been close especially because they had both lost their mothers when they were young.

Anne pulled her thoughts away from her mother and found that they strayed back to her own future duties as a mother.

After her baby was born, she would have to rest. Midwives she had spoken to warned her that childbirth could be a long and painful process, but Anne did not care so long as her child was safe and healthy. But after she was well, there were so many things she looked forward to doing. Sitting in these gardens with the baby, laughing and playing or just watching him sleep. And when he was older she would walk with him down the halls and find him friends to play with, every child needs friends even a royal one. Anne believed in her A sudden feeling of sadness swept over Anne.

Here she was thinking of her life with this baby, when his father would never have one.

Sure, Aramis might see the child occasionally but their child would never call him father. No, instead Louis would take that right for himself. Anne thought back to when she had last seen Aramis, how he had vowed to protect her baby. _Their baby_. She could still remember the way he had looked at her when he heard she was with child.

_His child_.

Their conversation had shaken her deeply. Anne had been prepared for a variety of possible reactions, from fear to anger, but she had been shocked by his words. How he had sworn to protect her and her child.

To any onlooker this interaction could have been seen simply as a loyal soldier speaking of his duty to protect the royal family, but Anne had known his words were loaded with a different meaning. Her brilliant, honourable Aramis was swearing to honour his duty as a father, as well as a musketeer, and this action only made Anne feel more love for him.

"Your majesty ?" said one of her ladies, Melinda.

"Yes?" Anne replied, as she was pulled away from her thoughts of the dashing musketeer.

"Shall we go inside now, I think the weather is turning." Melinda said, her eyes darting to the sky.

Anne followed her gaze and saw that the beautiful weather had been obscured by dark clouds in the sky, they looked like they might burst with rain at any moment.

"Yes we should return to the palace. Pity, it was such a beautiful day."

**A.N: So what do you think? I would love some reviews as feedback and to see if I should continue. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the musketeers or it's characters. If I did it would be called "the Annamis show".**

**A.N. Again thanks to my friend Sophie (Miss Jackson Grayson-Barton) without her this story would have the shittiest grammar ever. **

"This is not what I imagined when I became a musketeer," remarked Athos, as he withdrew his sword from it's scabbard, preparing himself for the drunk's advance.

Aramis and his fellow musketeers had been tasked to search the city for men whose names were on a list – a list, from Captain Treville, of men who had reportedly committed treason. These men had probably just expressed their dislike of the King, whom they blamed for their troubles, but unfortunately they had complained too loudly. The Captain had ordered these men rounded up and sent to stay in a prison cell for a few days.

What with the grand ball the King was planning, the Cardinal had shared his fears that the commoners might decide to take action and form a mob outside the palace. A mob would not have been a threat, but the King had heeded his advisor's words and ordered this drastic action. Aramis disagreed with this, but it was not his place to question his King's demands.

"Still I suppose it keeps us from getting lazy." Porthos replied. The man they had been sent to collect, a Monsieur Lombard, had been found on the floor of a tavern on the edge of town. Drunk and seemingly out of his mind. Lombard did not seem to be a fan of soldiers, much less musketeers.

"Yes. You have been getting to lazy." Aramis said jokingly. "Why don't we let you take this one?"

And with that he stepped back, watching Athos and D'Artagnan do the same.

"If you insist." Porthos replied. Lombard could not have been much of a fighter sober, but drunk he seemed to show no skill what so ever. He flung himself at Porthos who hit him once, knocking his to the floor. Porthos pulled Lombard's hands behind his back where he tied them together tightly. The drunkard continued to struggle as Porthos pulled him to his feet, thrashing and shouting.

"You serve a cowardly little imp! He would have us all starve! Him and his bitch queen! If it were up to me! I would—"

But the men never got to here what Monsieur Lombard would do because the second he had spoken of the Queen, Aramis had strode over to him and hit him with such force, he was knocked unconscious.

"Now what do we do? Carry him?" Porthos complained as he struggled to hold the man up.

"Strap him to my horse. I'll walk." He muttered, walking away. Lombard's comment about the king had been quite funny, but when he had spoken of Ann—her Majesty that way, Aramis had seen red.

His Queen nor any woman deserved to be spoken of that way.

"So any more names on that list?" Asked D'Artagnan. "This is quite entertaining."

"Yes. One more. A Monsieur Rochelle, a spice merchant who owns a shop by the Sienne." Athos read from the paper in his hand.

"A spice merchant? What did he do? Threaten to pepper the King?" Porthos asked laughing heartily.

"Apparently he has been speaking loudly about treasonous things," was Athos' vague reply. While walking down a path that lead to the prison, Aramis turned to look up at Athos on his destrier.

"What treasonous things?" D'Artagnan asked, before Aramis had a chance to ask the same question.

"The Captain says that some people in Paris believe that Louis is not fit to rule. That France would be better ruled by Phillip IV," Athos answered with a dark look on his face, this subject obviously vexed him.

"Why the bloody hell would the people want the king of Spain to rule us?!" Pathos asked loudly.

"Spain? Rule us?" D'Artagnan muttered bewildered. "Why would they want that?"

"Do I look like a fountain of knowledge? I was not privy to all of the Captain's worries." Athos snapped.

"But you must know why? The Captain would have told you." Aramis countered.

"Why?"

"You're his favourite."

"Don't be idiotic."

"Don't be modest."

"Alright…He says the people are concerned that Louis has no heir." Athos hissed.

"But the Queen is preg—" D'Artagnan began, before he was hurriedly interrupted by the elder soldier.

"The people don't know yet. The nobility will be told at the ball and until then no one but us, the Captain, the Cardinal and the King and Queen know. The people still think that the Queen is childless and they are starting to blame her. They say that her father, the King of Austria, knew she was barren and arranged her marriage to Louis to spite France and strengthen his ties with Spain."

"That is utter lies! They can't possibly believe that." Aramis near-yelled. It angered him greatly, how the people had turned against her. She was a kind and gracious queen, who should not be blamed for something that was out of her control and it was not even a problem anymore, she was no longer childless.

She was pregnant.

The people would have what they wanted, an heir to the throne of France and the King's reign would be secure. If she had a son, that was. If the child was a girl, she would be passed off to a nursemaid, like nothing, and Anne pressured to conceive another child immediately after. That was if she survived childbirth.

No, thought Aramis hastily. He would not even think of such a thing. Losing Anne, even though she was not his, was unthinkable.

"Calm down, Aramis." D'Artagnan said. "The people of Paris will soon know that they were wrong to blame their Queen."

"D'Artagnan is right." Athos agreed. "But the Captain just wants to be certain that there will be no trouble at the ball."

Athos gave him a meaningful look. A look that said, 'and no trouble from you either'. Athos knew of Aramis' night with the Queen, and although it was obvious he disapproved, Athos had sworn never to speak of it, not even to Porthos and D'Artagnan.

"Well then. We had better drop off this drunkard and go find the spice merchant."

As soon as they had deposited Monsieur Lombard in the darkest, filthiest part of the prison dungeon, Aramis, Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan rode over to the little spice shop by the Sienne.

"This is supposed to be a secret meeting place for revolutionaries?" Asked D'Artagnan, as his eyes scanned the shelves full of pots of spices. "Appearances can be deceiving." Athos remarked cryptically, as he pushed his way through the store.

"It smells like feet in here." Porthos remarked, wrinkling his nose. Aramis shushed him. In the distance he heard a scuffling sound.

"Come out, Monsieur Rochelle we mean you no harm." Athos proclaimed. "I wouldn't promise that. Not after what Aramis did to the last man." D'Artagnan sniped.

They heard the sound of a door open.

"Great. You scared him, and now he's running." Aramis muttered as he shot to the other room at the end of the shop. When he reached the other room he saw a door wide open onto the street. Aramis spotted the back of a short bald man walking quickly down the alley.

"Rochelle! Stop!" He shouted. The man turned and as a soon as he set eyes on the musketeer changed his pace to a run.

"Damn you." He swore as he quickly followed the man.

This man was faster than Aramis had thought.

Rochelle ran through the alley into the street. He probably hoped to be lost in the crowd, but the soldier's keen eyesight caught him. Within a few moments his eyes found Rochelle. He was on his knees in an otherwise empty alley. Aramis assumed that the man had given up fleeing and was surrendering to arrest.

"This is the smart thing to do, Monsieur Rochelle. A few days in prison and then back to work. That doesn't sound too bad does it?" Aramis asked as he placed a hand on Rochelle's shoulder.

But he was unable to reply. His throat was slit open.

A deep red smile was cut across his throat. The attack must have been moments before because Rochelle was still alive; he was choking on his own blood and spluttering, but alive still.

Aramis knelt beside the dying man, taking hold of his shoulders and staring helplessly as the life left the man's eyes. Rochelle went limp and Aramis let his body fall back, there was nothing more he could do except watch.

"What on God's earth?" Gasped D'Artagnan, who had finally caught up with him.

"Someone killed him and it was not me." Aramis stated as he stood up, brushing off his knees.

"Then who?" The young Musketeer enquired. D'Artagnan was right. Who could possibly have been so fast? And why had they decided to kill Monsieur Rochelle?

"That, my young friend, is the question."

**A.N. Please review? It only takes a moment and it makes me happy, which makes me want to update fast. So really it's good for all of us. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Disclaimer: i do not own the show or any of its characters (too bad)**

**A.N. Super sorry about the delay, i was on holiday! Hope you like this chapter it is in Jocelyn's P.O.V. I know she is my own original character and not in the show but i hope you like her as much as i do. She will be an important character for the plot.**

**P.S. this chapter is dedicated to my friend sophie for her support and also to hellangel15 because her review was so sweet and really motivated me *hint hint*. Maybe that can be a thing? The person who puts the nicest review will get a chapter dedicated to them! :)**

"Don't you ever sleep, girl?" August, the cook asked as Jocelyn sat eating grapes on a stool in the kitchen.

"No, not really. Besides how could I possibly stay away from you when you flatter me so?" She replied, giving the man a wry smile.

Jocelyn enjoyed their banter; August was a crass man but at least he was honest about it, and honesty was a quality she respected. Especially after all the polite falseness she received from nobles that would never dare set foot in the servant's quarters. She liked rising at dawn and visiting August and the other servants. All of them were so interesting – they also knew almost everything that happened in the palace and Jocelyn found it useful to hear what they knew.

"Still, shouldn't you at least be fretting about what dress you are wearing to the ball? It's in two days time and from what I have heard it's going to be the event of the year." August said this in a dry manner, he and Jocelyn both knew that every upcoming event was the event of the year until it happened and then the next one was. Then again the nobles at court always did have a short memory.

"It is certainly going to be grand. As for my dress I shall have to order one after the queen has had her fitting."

Jocelyn had spent an hour the day before looking through the lists in the steward's office to finally find a new seamstress. She had ended up sending for the wife of a cloth merchant. Fontaine, the steward, had told her that this merchant's wife sometimes made dresses for his wife and her friends. She knew that this was a risk, having a middle-class merchant's wife to make the Queen's dress but Jocelyn had a feeling that it would all work out fine and Anne wanted something new.

That was basically Jocelyn's job as Anne chief lady-in-waiting. She served Anne, did what she wanted and what she needed, it was her duty to look after Anne and no one could say that she did not do that. After all she had left Austria with Anne to be her lady, leaving behind all she had known for a strange new life at a French court.

"Blimey girl! Cutting it a bit late aren't you? What if something happens? What is the queen going to do? Turn up to her own ball in her dressing gown?" The middle aged man let out a hearty laugh.

"Why don't you focus on your own work? I'm sure you will have to bake an awfully big cake." She replied, pinching more grapes only to have her hand slapped away.

"Stop your thieving and go and see to the Queen, she will be up soon. I would send some food up with you, but the Queen probably won't be hungry till later. She has been feeling a bit unwell in the mornings hasn't she?" August muttered the last sentence with a smile on his face as she led her to the stairs.

Jocelyn immediately turned and stared at him with a suspicious look on her face.

"What do you mean by that?" She saw a glimmer of knowledge. "Do you know something?"

"Of course I do. Do you think anything happens in this castle that I don't know about?" He raised his eyebrows and looked at Jocelyn knowingly.

"I don't know what you are talking about." She stated passively, not trusting herself enough to look him in the eyes.

"Well never mind. I suppose it will all be explained at the ball, now you go about your business, I have a feast to plan."

August was a mastermind when it came to cooking for a hundred people. Each culinary creation was better than the last, and Jocelyn could hardly wait to see his latest one.

Hastily picking up her skirts, Jocelyn waved goodbye to August and got a grunt in reply from the busy cook.

When she had climbed up the steps to the hall, Jocelyn realized it was far later than she had first thought, the sun now high in the sky, so she increased her pace to a run. Weaving her way past butlers and maids, she hurried to the queen's apartments where she was greeted by Melinda, who gave her a disdainful look.

"Her majesty has been waiting. Why she insists on seeing only you I will never know."

"It must be my cheerful disposition." Jocelyn countered with a scowl, and then continued. "Is the seamstress here yet?"

"Yes, she is down in the lounge. I suppose you will want me to send for her?" Melinda answered in a patronizing and altogether aggravating tone.

"If you would be so gracious." She replied, clenching her fists to stop her from slapping the smug grin off of Melinda's face. Usually Jocelyn could endure the harsh looks and cruel remarks from her fellow ladies, but today she simply couldn't be bothered. It had always been this way, the women of court always looked down on her, whether it was because they saw her as lower class or if it was because of the way she looked.

Even as a child Jocelyn had looked odd. Her bright red flame coloured hair and witchy green eyes were seen as unusual by most people. Growing up she had endured taunts from other children, of course this was before Anne had befriended her. After that no one dared displease the tiny princess, but still they had kept their distance. And when it came to deciding whether or not to go with Anne to Austria there had been no choice. She had no real family except her old grandmother, who had encouraged her to leave. The old woman had always been full of sage advice. One of her nuggets of wisdom had been to rise above petty jibes.

Gliding past Melinda and her fellow ladies to walk into Anne's chamber, she smiled when she saw her friend sitting at the table writing on a piece of parchment.

"Oh there you are, Jocelyn! I was wondering where you had gotten to," said Anne, for a moment forgetting her letter. "Where have you been?"

"Just for a walk your majesty, I must have lost track of time. May I ask whom you are writing to?" she enquired.

"Oh this? I am just listing names for the baby. What do you think?" Anne answered, holding the parchment for Jocelyn to take. As she scanned her eyes over the list of names, Jocelyn notice two things they all had in common. They were all of French origin. And there were only girl's names.

"They are all very nice, but why only girls names?"

"Well I know Louis hopes for a boy, but if the baby is a boy he will probably be named after his… father." Anne's cheek turned a shade pinker after she said the word father.

Jocelyn fought the frown that was trying to form.

It was times like this that Jocelyn fretted about, when it seemed as if Anne might let her secret slip. Jocelyn knew about Anne and the musketeer, of course. As soon as Anne had returned from the nunnery she had known. She had always been able to read her friend like a book, so she knew when she was hiding something. But it was only when she saw them together that she realized. Jocelyn was an observant person. She had noticed the stolen glances in each other's direction. Anne had confided in her what she thought of the handsome musketeer who had saved her life at the prison. At the time Jocelyn had thought that perhaps Anne had a small infatuation with this Aramis, it was easy to see why, compared to Louis and his childlike demeanor, almost any man was desirable, and she had presumed that this infatuation would fade, as all feelings do. But instead the feelings had progressed and now here they were, in a great deal of danger.

A knock on the door jolted Jocelyn from her worries, and when she looked to Anne she saw an expression of faint surprise, as if she too had been deep in thought.

"That will be the seamstress." Jocelyn guessed. And when the door was pulled open Jocelyn's eyes met with a pretty copper-haired young woman holding a long length of measuring tape in one hand and what looked like a drawing book in the other.

She looked absolutely terrified.

"Madame Bonacieux? Please come in, I am sorry if you had to wait a while." Jocelyn said in a soft voice, attempting to put the poor girl at ease.

"No. Well what I mean is that I wasn't waiting long." The Madame replied as she gazed around the ornate beautiful bedroom, with its gilded mirrors and huge window looking out to the sunny garden.

Jocelyn smiled as she watched the women walk forward in awe; she remembered when she first seen this room. She too had been in awe; whilst Anne's room at the palace in Austria had been beautiful, it was nowhere near as grand. Mrs Bonacieux stopped in the middle of the room and, when she saw Anne, she immediately sunk into a low curtsey.

"Your Majesty." She said softly, her voice a decibel higher revealing her anxiety.

"Please call me Anne," said Anne gracious as ever. She, like Jocelyn, was smiling at the seamstress' shy politeness.

"Your Ma- Anne. I am not sure why I am here. What I mean is…" She took a deep breath to calm her somewhat frayed nerves. "I am not a royal seamstress, not even a seamstress really. I just drew a few designs and made one or two gowns for my friends. I am not fit to dress a Queen."

"Jocelyn says that our steward's wife loved the dresses you made for her." Anne answered, as she took a step forward and held her hand out. "May I look at your drawings?"

Unable to refuse Madame Bonacieux held up the small drawing book, which Anne gently took.

"These are…amazing." Anne gasped as she leafed through the book.

Jocelyn let out a relieved breath, happy that her risk had paid off, while their nervous guest stood completely still and then, to the surprise of the two women, burst into tears.

"I am sorry…this is…very…" she gasped in between sobs.

"Overwhelming?" Jocelyn offered, making her way towards the weeping woman.

"Yes...no…well what I mean is… it's been a stressful time." She stifled a cry and tried to wipe her eyes.

"It's alright Miss Bonacieux." Anne said consolingly, and then she flashed Jocelyn a look of confusion.

"Please call me Constance. Oh, I am so sorry about this. It's just…I was so happy when you said you liked my drawings and the first person I wanted to tell was…the man I love."

"Ah… and this man is not your husband?" Anne asked quietly.

"No he is not." Shamed filled Constance's features as she gazed at her feet.

Silence file the room, Jocelyn could think of nothing to say. In fact if she opened her mouth she might very well laugh. The irony of this situation was…hilarious. Anne had had an affair with one of her husband's men and was now having his baby and well…Jocelyn had certainly made her own mistakes, ones she would rather not dwell on. The silence was becoming unbearable so Jocelyn said the first thing that entered her mind.

"Men, they can be such a hassle sometimes."

Anne let out a small laugh, Constance giggled quietly. Soon the three women were fighting tears of laughter.

"Can I look at your drawings?" Jocelyn asked, when they had all calmed down.

"Yes…I have only made a few of them. Some were just gowns I drew for fun, I knew it would be too expensive to make them. And when would I have worn them?" The merchant's wife said with a pitiful look.

"Anne was right these are wonderful." Jocelyn remarked as she gazed at the pictures. They were drawn in soft pencil then painted with colour. Blue, green even yellow. Every gown was different from the last, but all were beautiful and extravagant. Trimmed with gold cloth, lined with satin or hemmed with lace; these were certainly not dresses for a merchant's wife. But perhaps a Queen.

"Thank you. Which do you think you would want me to make?" She asked turning towards the Queen.

"Well…how about all of them?" Anne suggested smiling brightly.

"All of them? I-" Constance stopped abruptly, and looked so pale Jocelyn thought for a moment she might faint.

"You won't have to make them all now. Just two, one for Jocelyn and one for myself, but after do you think you could consider being my official seamstress? I will need several new dresses in the next few months." Anne explained, gesturing to the slight swell of her stomach under her loose linen night-gown.

"Oh my…" was all Constance could utter as she stared at the Queen.

"I don't suppose you make baby clothes?" Jocelyn asked jokingly.

**A.N. So what do you think? I know some of you may have seen this coming but bear with me there will be plenty of surprises! ;)**

**My next update may take a while because i have exams in like thirteen days and have to go into hardcore revision mode. Maybe i might possibly update in the next week or so but please be patient and as always...REVIEW!**


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